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Page 68
"Wait, Alinor. Have you told Adam and Joanna? How How do you desire that I address them? That they address me?"
She did not come back nor even turn around to face him. "I have told them nothing."
"Do you want me to tell them? What would you have me say? Will they be distressed? Angry?"
Alinor turned slowly, leaning back against the doorframe so that Ian would not see she was clutching it. "To every question I can only say, I do not know."
"For Jesus' sake, Alinor, you must believe I do not wish to wrest Simon's children from him."
"You cannot help it," she whispered. "In a very little while Adam will not remember him at allexcept as a name in your mouth or mine. He was only a little more than five when Simon fell ill. He will wish to forget a father who could not climb a stair or lift a sword."
"You need not worry about that. I will build memories for him."
It was useless to tell Ian that the memories would have Simon's name but Ian's face. In fact, Alinor knew it was better so. Her son would never be wrenched apart by any feeling of disloyalty. For him, Simon and Ian would be one composite father. It would not be so easy with Joanna. Alinor nodded acceptance of Ian's offer and then spoke her last thought aloud.
"Do not be hurt if Joanna seems angry at first."
"What is the use of telling me not to be hurt?" Ian rejoined irritably. "It must hurt me if Joanna, who has always loved me, should hate me instead."
"She will not hate you," Alinor soothed. "Only be patient. Give her a little time."
In the event, the telling came easier than Ian or Alinor expected. When Ian appeared at the table set with the bread and wine customary for the breaking of a night's fast, he was full armed except for his helmet and gauntlets. A double shriek of protest rose.

 
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